If Life Gives You Lemons
by T3h Toby-Chan
Summary: Russel x Ed Drabbles. Just pointless fluff from a dork trying to spread the love for an overlooked pair. Now features the LingxEdxRussel love triangle!
1. Make Lemonade

"Easy with the sugar!" The tall blond admonished, hastily brushing the white powder into a semi-neat pile, "Vercio's going to be pissed if we attract ants all over his kitchen."

"It needs more!" The shorter boy insisted, dumping several heaping spoonfulls carelessly into the pitcher, stirring violently. It had been a mixed blessing when an alchemic experiment mishap had caused them to blow half of Mister Vercio's fence apart, but he had been kind enough to let them replace it albiet with a cheaply transmuted version, and help him make lemonade to complete the equivalent trade. Edward was upset about the whole thing, and ranted that it was all Russel's fault, but Russel rather liked his view of Edward clad in a white apron, brandishing a ladel like a deadly weapon, although he feared mentioning it might earn him a right hook or said ladel being applied in some way it was not intended.

He stretched and leaned against the counter, fist propped beneath his chin, watching Edward with one of those rare earnest smiles that made the other alchemist turn away and pretend to engross himself with stirring. He scooped a ladelful of the juice into a tiny tasting cup and made a face as he tried it.

"How is it?" Russel asked.

"Still too sour." Ed grumbled in reply.

"Let me try," Russel insisted. Before Ed even made the full motion of offering the alchemist a cup, Russel had already taken Edward's chin gently with one of his hands, all sticky with lemon juice, and sampled the flavor fresh off of the tester's lips. He drew back only an inch or so and responded,

"No, I think it's sweet enough," His expression broadened into a sappy grin, "Or maybe it's just you."

Edward bit his hand.


	2. Weakness

He would have expected face paint. Or anything of a malicious nature for that matter. Granted, falling asleep in the study where that Tringham kid was nearby wasn't among the list of Edward's greatest ideas, but the room was stuffy, and he was so exhausted. Among the things he might have expected upon awakening were maybe a markered mustache, or his legs tied together with a hastily transmuted sofa cushion, but what he definitely did not expect was to awake being petted.

Before his brain began fully working, he actually smiled in his half-awake state, sighing contently like a purring kitten, until reality hit him like a brick wall as he realized there was actually someone there, stroking his hair fondly. The alarm bells really began to sound when he noted that the only two people who knew this weakness of his were Alphonse and his mother; One who was dead, and the other who had hands that... were definitely not this soft. His eyes followed the arm all the way up to it's owner and stared with absolute mortification at the younger alchemist, who stopped his scratching just long enough to grin michieviously.

Tringham! If his inner screams could have made him choke, he probably would, but by way of the wicked wiles he was restrained in, he couldn't drag himself out of the calm relaxation.

'Crap crap CRAP! This is so messed up! How did he know? Who told?' He was blushing a very distinct shade of vermillion as his body went limp, and he was asked,

"So, did you have a nice nap, shorty?"

Edward clenched his jaw. Russel was going to die for that one!

... in five more minutes...


	3. City Boy

"Pass that crate up here, City Boy." The ladder borne teenager called down patronizingly.

"For the last time, I'm not a 'City Boy', dammit! I grew up in Rizenbul, for crying out loud!" Edward fumed, lugging the half full wooden crate of lemons over to the base of the tree from which Russel was perched.

"Tch. You still cart stuff around like a pansy," He commented snidely, rolling his eyes as he flicked a pesky wisp of hair from his face, and jumped down to take the box himself. Edward sneered as he watched the taller boy walk effortlessly back to his ladder toting the heavy box. It wasn't as though he wasn't strong enough, but carrying heavy boxes of produce was not among the list of things he generally employed his strength for, and unbeknownst to most people, it takes a certain amount of skill to not throw one's back out just lifting it improperly. Edward's knowledge of human anatomy as well as weight balance and center of gravity might have helped him if his pride hadn't taken over for his sensibility.

Ed ran a gloved hand along his forehead, his cheeks turning faintly red from the heat.

"S'matter? You're hot already?" Russel asked, noting Ed's exhausted behavior, "Really, if you insist on wearing that black coat in the summer sun, you're going to get heat stroke, City Boy."

"Shut up!" Ed spat, begrudgingly adding, "Like hell I'm going to give you the satisfaction of taking my clothes off in front of you." The Tringham boy snorted. (Ed hadn't meant for it to come out like that.)"Don't worry, Shorty," Russel said, descending the ladder and hoisting the now full box of lemons, "You'll get used to the hard work eventually."

Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea for the young Tringham to walk away at that moment, knowing that even while inexperienced at picking lemons, Edward Elric knew a thing or two about aerodynamics and velocity.

That, and he was a very good shot.


	4. War: LingxEdxRussel

(**A/N**: Yes, I know it's impossible, what with an anime-only and a manga-only character. The bunny held me at gunpoint and threatened to eat the last of my brainflesh... Hope you're all happy!)

He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. It was not only bad enough that he had been waiting, secretly missing Edward Elric for months, and was unabashedly excited for the Elrics' visit, but now he saw his Edward approaching, and there was this... ugly-faced boy clinging to him. It wasn't only the shameless display of affection that the spiky haired teen (Really, what kind of hairstyle was that? He looked like a gopher!), but the fact that Edward seemed to be letting him! He was actually tolerating the obnoxious kid's arm around his shoulder; he wasn't resisting, just blushing and looking away, as though he had once had a problem with it, and finally gave it. How dare he? How dare they? He was enraged. So enraged. (If it were not for his rage, he might have observed that there was also a perfectly restored Alphonse returning as well, but Fletcher seemed to be excited enough for the both of them on that matter.)

Ling was his name, so he learned that evening, as he glared over the dinner table at the way too confident face, and nearly drove his steak knife through the plate. Ling? What kind of a name is Ling? Honestly, who could stand to be with a person named Ling?

He finally approached the idiot, ready to fight to the death for Edward's honor.

"What do you think you're doing with my Edward?"

Ling was shocked for a second at the sudden confrontation.

"_Your_ Edward? What makes him_ 'your' _Edward?" He asked skeptically, "And what am I doing with him? Well, nothing at the moment."

"Don't play dumb!" Russel snapped, backing Ling against the wall, "I've known Ed far longer than you have. He wouldn't possibly be happy with someone who looks like a... like a... rodent!" He couldn't think of any other insults at the moment.

"Ohhh," Ling grinned slyly, "Is that what this is about?" He cracked his eyes open to glared at the uneasy alchemist in front of him.

"You don't scare me with your evil eyes!" Russel snapped.

"Hm hm hm... Yes, 'evil eyes'. That's what he said at first too. Funny how people change," He broke away and gave a sneaky smirk, "Sorry to dissappoint you, but I will win the shrimp's heart. No contest."

Russel's anger boiled, as he watched the bastard stride confidently away.

"Who do you think you are! The goddamn prince of Xing!"

Ling snapped around and nodded quickly.

"Mm hm!"


	5. Nickname

He was a rather useless secretary, so Edward found out quickly, but it was rewarding to have Tringham around when he had fallen into the dreadfully monotonous part of his career which a certain Colonel had once called 'The Paperwork Lull'. He had haughtily convinced himself that he would never be stuck in such a displeasing job, yet adulthood had to come at sometime, and adulthood, as Edward found the lamentably hard way, came with boring responsibilities. Of course, it was not without it's perks; From his eye-level at the desk, he was allowed a fabulous view of his paper-shuffling boyfriend's backside.

Secretary Tringham, however, did not care much for office life; He developed a blatant disregaurd for military etiquitte as he was submitted to the teasing of other soldiers, especially state alchemists (Even from Edward, who liked to indirectly ruffle his feathers by offhandedly mentioning that he had passed the state alchemist exam at the age of twelve. How long ago was that? Ten years? Eleven? Smug grin...). Russel lamented, taking a moment of rest, stretched across a rather uncomfortable chair besides Ed's desk, how the state alchemist selections were completely unfair. Edward indulged his complaints for a while, and dotingly assured him that it wasn't worth it to stress so much over getting his own watch and a fancy title. Russel argued that it was tough competing with such a heavy sounding name like "Fullmetal". Edward smirked, amused that this was about competition now.

"What kind of title would I get... do you think?" Russel supposed out loud, rubbing his sore neck with one hand.

"You're named after some signature bit, right? You're into the whole botanical and naturalistic alchemy..." Edward thought about this for a second, "How about..." He leaned over to whisper his suggestion into Russel's ear. The younger alchemist quickly reddened, and slapped his palm on the desk to embarassedly blurt,

"That one never leaves the bedroom!"


	6. The Same Face

**A/N: End of anime spoilers. You won't get it if you haven't seen it. kthxbai.**

On another note- I got them to ANGST! Omg! (Proud of self) It's so hard to get Russ and Ed to be angsty- They're goofy-banter types. 

**On yet anothernote: Wow, Ling got an interesting reaction! No, Ling is nota Mary-Sue (Unless he has something... important to tell us... oO;;) He is, in fact, a prince of Xing and a very awesome Chichiri-like character of the manga. He shows up in volume 8, which I don't think will make it to America very soon...**

Edward groaned drearily and shifted, nudging against the weight of Russel, who, thoroughly drunk, was nearly asleep against his shoulder, and not apparently willing to let go of his human pillow. He leaned as far as he could without disturbing the other, tentatively reaching towards the sofa armrest for his overcoat, fumbling a few times in frustration as his fingers didn't seem to feel like obeying through his own intoxicated haze. He finally got a hold of it, and fluidly attempted to slip off the couch unnoticed, supposing he had succeeded in doing so, until a weight at the back of his neck alerted him of his failure. He looked back with some difficulty, noting the fist that was grasping at his ponytail, into the dumb grin of his drinking partner, who mumbled something sounding like, 'Where's the fire?'.

"I've- got to go," Edward muttered, "Home, studies-... it's really late." He made up excuses as he went, loosening his hair from Russel's grip, gathering up his coat. He had to leave before sobriety returned; before the alchohol became blameless.

"The moonlight is pretty, isn't it?" Russel noted half coherently, proving either that he was wasted to the point of such silliness, or that he really was a closet romantic after all.

'Just like him...' Edward mused, a sinking feeling overtaking him, as he shook his head and turned again.

"I really need to go." He moved hastily out the door, and shut it, closing off the harsh winter air from the warmth inside. He stared at the nameplate below the address on the door, wishing that it said 'Tringham', and not 'Shulz', reminding him that this wasn't the real thing; that he was still far away from home.

He walked the chilly streets, eyeing the foreign looking buildings and strange vehicles and unfamiliar landscapes that still perplexed him. It wasn't that this place didn't look like home that bothered him. That the people were so similar, was what made it hell.


End file.
